


Dark's Most Wanted

by Blue_Mistfall



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: AU - Beginning of XX century, AU - Circus, Copies, Experiment Results, Searching for a Job, inventions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-02-29 11:51:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18777715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Mistfall/pseuds/Blue_Mistfall
Summary: Tired of his annoying twin Natemare, who constantly needs fear to feed on, Nate decides to find a job at the seemingly perfect place for it - the Dark's Dreadful Delights circus. Some of the crew immediately take a liking to the duo, but some do not. However, Nate gets an idea of his most probably successful debut, but can he fulfill it? Sometimes the thought is much better before being said aloud...





	1. Before the Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xt1me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xt1me/gifts).



> This is based on the YouTube Ego Circus idea of xt1me. See here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18395117  
> The main frame is kept, but I decided to change the situation, just because I thought it would be logical. Why not?

   “That’s… unbelievable. Completely, utterly unbelievable.”

   “I am not a museum exhibit, stop staring at me,” two voices replied in unison, and two young men – both skinny, pale and with black fringes half-closing top halves of their faces – stared at each other: one in disbelief, the other in disappointment. Then the latter one curved his lips and snapped:

   “You’re a wax copy of me, never forget it, Nate.”

   “It’s unknown who is whose copy, Natemare,” the first one parried. Faint blue vertical stripes along Natemare’s face became more prominent with irritation, but he managed to calm down. After all, they were not here to battle.

   This place was not a place for battles, anyway. It was a place where both Nate and Natemare could benefit: a potential working place called Dark’s Dreadful Delights. From the very beginning it was clear that it was not an ordinary circus: the twins had seen that the employees of this place were divided in two groups. And members of these groups shared appearances. Some were small and pale like Nate, but round-faced, blue-eyed, their hair was dyed in various shades of green (mostly) and they had more facial hair. Others were more athletic and had Asian heritage most prominently seen in their dark almond-shaped eyes and facial features which clearly indicated the mix of two races. In all, there were minor differences like hairstyles, but it was obvious that there was something very wrong. And Nate suspected it would be the same kind of wrong that took place in case of him and Natemare.

   “Since when have you two been this way?” the men in front of them asked simultaneously (perhaps willing to approve Nate’s opinion). They belonged to the second group, the ones with Asian ancestors, but one of them seemed benign enough, wore glasses and was dressed casually, while the other had some odd kind of blue and red aura around him, had grayish skin and was dressed nicely in a strict suit with a tie.

   “Since I remember myself,” Nate replied. Natemare kept silent, for there was nothing to add.

   “Well, the same can be applied to me and Dark,” the glass-wearing man informed. “I’ve heard of a cloning experiment involving electricity and the concept of light and dark sides of personality. I suspected that there were more than three lab subjects.”

   “I told you about that,” the elaborate man, Dark, reminded him.

   “Wait a minute. Three? You mean…” Natemare interrupted himself, not knowing how to verbalize his idea. Both men in front of him gestured him to keep quiet.

   “You will see. After all, it’s dangerous to walk around like that if nobody knows, even if the experiment results were controlled, unlike in our case,” the glass-wearing man replied. “In first two cases it backfired. Have you seen how many of us there are?”

   “This means… we can stay here?” Nate marveled, not knowing how to feel.

   “For now,” Dark caught up. “We should learn what you can do, and then we’ll see.”

   “My name is Mark Fischbach, by the way, and this is titular Dark,” the glass-wearing man added. “Nathan Sharp and Natemare Sharp. What an interesting coincidence… Jack! Anti!”

   The door slammed open, and two heads mirroring each other popped in from the corridor. These two belonged to the second group, and their most prominent differences from each other was hair color (one had lime green, while the other’s was deep forest green), damages (the second one had a large scar across his neck) and eye color (the first one’s were blue, the other’s were unnaturally green).

   “I suppose they’re… well… the first ones, like you?” Natemare asked, ever so tactless. But hardly anyone present paid a heed to it.

   “Come on! We’re gonna give you two a tour!” Jack practically yelled out, and Nate recalled hearing this voice. It had happened a moment after… well… basically, the reason why he and Natemare had to search for something like this place. Yes, it was weird, but it was reality.

   From the very beginning Nate noticed that there was something off about this circus. First of all, almost no animals: he only spotted some squirrels along the way through the half-dim space. Secondly, there were no women here. Seriously. Even the carnival attractions outside were all ran by males.

   “What? No cute ginger girls? They’re mostly chatty, we would’ve never kept the truth in,” the green-eyed one, Anti, spoke all of a sudden. “No, I’m not a telepath. I was surprised with this idea as well at first. For you to know, it was Dark’s. He’s really rational… Eep!”

   The last was caused by an abysmal bang from the farther end of the place and followed with a roar of amused laughter.

   “YOU’RE SO DEAD, WARFSTACHE!!!” Anti yelled. But Jack chuckled to himself:

   “Never mind, that’s our gun-shooter Wilford Warfstache. He’s completely bonkers. If everyone here has a reason to behave their ways, he does not, that’s all I’d say…”

   “Check!”

   A stream of pink and yellow dashed past them before Nate and Natemare could spot at least the group to which this one belonged. Anti let out a long heavy sigh:

   “I hope Chase checked that all of his cartridges are blank… Chase is the guy running the ring toss out there,” he explained, chewing on his bottom lip. “He loves guns as well, but uses them to compete, not to scare the crap out of everyone else… Honestly, one day I’ll throttle Warfstache in his sleep.”

   “Here we are,” Jack announced. “The first two experiments backfired, but two did not and resulted in pairs of twins. We thought it would be the most logical for you to meet the other pair. Felix! Inf! We’ve got company!”

   He tugged the closest curtain away and entered a separated space inhabited by two blond lads, one of which was holding an enormous pile of items (so huge that it couldn’t be understood how he still hadn’t fallen or been squished by it), while the other, standing on a stepladder, was adding new and new things to it, trying to keep it balanced.

   “Ah!” The first one made two or three flexes and practically dropped the pile onto the floor so that everything possible went flying to all sides. “Wow! Wait, aren’t those…”

   “Yes,” Jack nodded. “Meet Felix and Infelix, the stage strongmen.”

   “That’s us,” the one who flexed approved, reaching out to Nate for a handshake. “Don’t worry, our strength applies to raising, pushing and pulling, not to twisting. That would’ve been a sucker punch, don’t you think?”

   The most prominent difference between those two were their eyes: Felix’s were blue, like Jacks, and Infelix’s were completely black, no pupils or anything. And perhaps he was paler than his rosy-cheeked twin. At first it couldn’t be even told that they were strongmen: their muscles were almost unseen, although tight.

   “If some Sir Tee geek can raise five thousand kilograms, why can’t I?” Felix mused. “Logical, hey? Will power, nothing else.”

   “And me,” Infelix added. “By the way, call me Inf, if you fancy. I don’t like sharing the name with this cockatoo.”

   “Anyway, you see that Felix and Inf found a way to work together so that they make each other stronger,” Jack concluded. “But you two, Nate and Natemare…”

   “Wow, that’s a nice touch,” Felix interfered. “Natemare. Natemare Moon. Isn’t that a lovely stage name?”

   Natemare only made his stripes become visible again, having made him back away.

   “You two are to find out your strongest mutual feature which is able to unite you and empower you both at the same time,” Jack continued. “Got any ideas?”

   “Well, I’m a musician,” Nate replied. “Guitar, mostly. I invited Natemare to take part in shows, but it all ended in vain because HE scared the audience away!”

   “HEY! That’s not my fault that I feel better after having a nice meal!” Natemare snapped. “Your fears are feeble, I’m tired of fast food!”

   “Fear?” Anti parroted. “Your feeding feeling is fear?”

   “Mm-hmm,” Natemare approved. “Say that three times fast.”

   “Music, fear, music, fear…” Jack mused. “Something’s showing up, but I can’t make it out right now. Anyway, let’s go on. I bet the guys are gonna help us out with this.”

   Talk of the devil. The next sight that opened in front of them was related to music, but the things were beginning to get eerie: the next secluded area contained a piano, and four hands were playing it. But the amount of legs hanging from a chair in front of it was two.

   “Jims!” Jack practically sang, and two pairs of eyes squinted at Nate and Natemare. Now it was seen that the piano players were Siamese twins with two torsos, but one pair of legs, conjoined at the waist level. “How’s the rehearsal going?”

   “Almost perfect, we were about to complete the new four-hand symphony,” was the double-voiced reply. They stood up, and the sight became creepier: even Natemare felt uneasy. These representatives of the Asian heritage group shared their hairstyles with most of the rest (long dark sideward fringes, while the hair on the sides and back of their heads was short) and in all had no specific features except for being what they were, of course. They were dressed in plain black pants and short-sleeved blue shirts, but the right one was wearing a mustard yellow waistcoat as well. Right now they managed to face the newcomers, standing in such a way that the ‘inner’ shoulder of the right one was in front of the ‘inner’ shoulder of the left one.

   “You’ll get used to them. The audience loves the Jims,” Jack continued. “They even say that some four-hand piano pieces were written specifically for them… Okay, we won’t disturb you anymore.”

   “Tell Dark that we’re not going to fail this time unless someone pink-and-yellow shoots a hole in the instrument again,” the Jims replied. Indeed, the piano had three symmetrical holes in its side. “If he spoils the inside, we’ll make him swallow all his bullets.”

   “I told you that Warfstache’s bonkers,” Jack reminded.

   “Now for the funny part.” Anti made up a manic smirk and wiggled his fingers. “Get ready, you two. Time for an overhaul.”

   The next place was a mixture of a lab and a workshop: there was a huge table, resembling the operation one, in the middle, while the walls were practically invisible behind shelves full of gears, instruments and – wait, were those torn-off arms and legs? Nate got his breath back when he realized they all weren’t real. Pieces of mechanic work, but incredibly similar to real ones. Proof: the table in the middle was occupied by two human-like beings, while the four living creatures were busy checking them.

   “I’m telling you that this will improve the aerodynamics!” the man in a red shirt yelped out at the moment when the quartet entered. “I’ve got a new idea for the next performance!”

   “Yes? And what might that be, Jackie?” another man wondered, arms crossed (a carbon copy of the first speaker, belonging to the green-haired group).

   “Rollerblades!” the man named Jackie shot out. “Can’t you see that, Henrik? Rollerblades! Risk! A perfect chance to make this one,” he patted one of the beings on the table on the shoulder, “even more slapstick-y!”

   “Well, let’s suppose that you’re right,” the third man pointed out (he was of the Asian heritage group). “But do you realize we don’t have enough time? Besides, me and Henrik hardly managed to improve the scene with Anti’s revival by the previous time so that there would not be any side-effects, if you know what I mean.”

   “That’s true,” Anti nodded, understanding that he won’t be able to attract attention for a while: so intense the argument was. “Henrik and Edward do that every time. At first Warfstache shoots me, and they revive me… What’s that look supposed to mean? You haven’t seen anything yet.”

   “Jackie has a point,” the fourth man (of the Asian heritage group just like the third one, and wearing a silver collar) nodded. “I could figure out what tricks are needed, and then… well… pure technology.”

   “It’s lovely that you four already have a plan for the next performance, but I think we gotta get ready for the closest one,” Anti said, having made the arguers turn their heads. “Nate, Natemare, those are our mad scientists Henrik von Schneeplestein and Edward Iplier. Actual doctors, I’d say.”

   “Gospel truth,” Henrik approved.

   “And those two are the most advanced of our kind,” Jack caught up. “Jackieboy Man and Silver Shepherd.”

   “Wow! So you finally found the missing link?” Jackie exclaimed and literally soared up with joy, having hit the ceiling with his head.

   “We came here by ourselves,” Natemare muttered.

   “So do you think that I could give those a chance to use the rollerblades?” the man named Silver Shepherd asked, hopefully staring at Nate. “I can check them. You see, I’m not a flyer, but I’m invincible. Wanna see?”

   “Stop it, Shep, save the best for the last,” Jackie interfered, smoothly landing. “Anyway, wanna know what those are? The distractions.” He pointed at the beings on the table, whose faces strongly resembled those of the members of Asian heritage group. “They are called Google and Bing. Actually, there are four Google ones, but they’re on preparation stage…”

   “It’s all great, Jackie, but you’ll have time to give more explanations,” Jack put in. Jackie pouted. “Well, shall we go on or you had enough?”

   “I suppose we should see everything, for if we’re allowed to stay, we should be aware of all details,” Nate replied.

   “I hate to say, but you’re right,” Natemare added.

   The next stage was far from the previous. In the next room, three representatives of Jack’s and Anti’s group were rehearsing their acts. The one in a white cat mask covering the upper half of his face and with a shock of sea green hair over it was practicing card tricks, while the one in a bowl hat and with elaborate black moustache with turned-up tips, such-like jolly gentleman, was rehearsing a mime act in front of a mirror. As about the third one, he was different from the rest of his copies because his hair was purple, and he had visible stitches all over his body: on the neck, around the wrists and elbows, on his knees – all seen due to his striped skin-tight suit with short sleeves and trouser-sleeves.

   “Now that seems classic,” Nate commented.

   “Ha ha, wait, you haven’t seen Marvin during his stage fright session!” Anti giggled. The masked man, Marvin, piled the cards up, stood akimbo and nodded:

   “That’s true. They say, everything genial is simple, and this is the proof.” He showed them the card he was holding (it was the jack of spades). “Just painted pieces of hardback paper, but it’s so easy to trick somebody with them! It can’t be explained, only seen… So, two little birdies told me that the potentially new colleagues were arriving. Are those you?”

   Nate and Natemare nodded. The moustached man immediately showed that there was something strange about him too: some kind of see-through tablet appeared to his right, saying “WELL, GREETINGS.”

   “Jameson is mute, but he uses his talent to speak to us, as far as hardly anyone here knows sign language well enough,” the masked man explained. “As about me, I am Marvin the Magnificent, and that’s Robbie,” he pointed at the purple-haired man who right now was hanging on the pull-up bar in the corner, arched backwards and holding his face with his knees.

   “Rob-bie,” the latter one approved, did a somersault and found himself straddling the bar.

   “A bit slow, but with a heart of gold,” Jack carelessly commented. “Henrik and Edward practically revived him. To be honest, he’s kind of a Frankenstein’s Monster, but made up out his own parts… and still isn’t too secure.” He winced when Robbie’s arm literally fell off after another twist on the bar. “Hey, Robbie, that’s not funny anymore. You still haven’t fallen apart during the performance, and you should not…”

   “He used to have a scary monster alias, but then Jackie found out that he’s as flexible as a ragdoll, so now he’s our contortionist,” Anti explained. “That’s the only problem… I think they’ve already finished their discussion.”

   “Is it… about… mechas?” Robbie asked, jumping off the bar and clutching his lost limb.

   “Yeah, them. Make sure that all of your stitches are reliable for the performance, right?”

   Robbie nodded and approached to the exit, badly keeping balance (no wonder). Hardly had he stepped out of the place when he was knocked off his feet with a literal wave of small furry animals. Squirrels that must’ve been infected with the virus of bonkers.

   “How many times have I asked them not to feed them without me?!”

   Yes, it was infectious, for neither Nate nor Natemare expected to see a person in fake royal robes and a crown (so large that it was practically a miracle that he managed to keep it on his head) who darted into the place after the squirrel tsunami and crashed into Robbie, having made him drop his lost arm and literally lose his head in addition.

   “Kingie!” Anti roared. “What is it? Again? Get them away from here, you Mowgli!”

   “Jackie and Shep tried their best, you know the rest.” The crowned man picked Robbie’s arm and head from the floor. “I’ll get Robster to Schneep, no worries.”

   “FIRST OFF, YOU WILL GET THOSE AWAY,” Jameson put in, the letters on his board becoming red and pulsing.

   “All right, all right…”

   “We don’t even remember his real name,” Jack confessed. “King of the Squirrels. Kingie. Nutty as he might be, but his talent is sometimes very useful.”

   Indeed, ‘Kingie’ proved that he was called like that not for nothing: one by one squirrels obediently scampered out of the room, not even trying to crowd. Nate had no idea how much time it would take to tame such amount of them. But Anti provided his own version:

   “Some say that he’s a half-squirrel himself. Hardy har har.”

   “Well, well, well. I see that the tour went just fine.”

   Just accidental copies. Just copies. On the outside. Nate went on reassuring himself with recalling that all the copies were different, and that meant – if he and Natemare were to stay here – that there was a chance to find common language with… at least three of the present. Who knows?

   “But you still haven’t seen all of us,” Dark continued. “The interview wasn’t over. There’s still one more to see. Follow me. Jack, Anti, check the instruments for the spectacle. I don’t want the drums to be holey again.”

   “DON’T WORRY, THAT’S NOT AS CREEPY AS IT SOUNDS,” Jameson sneakily stated behind Dark’s back before they could leave.

   The ‘one more to see’ was sitting at an enormous writing table in the room closer to the exit, fingers laced in front of him. It took Nate and Natemare some minutes to find out that he did belong to the Asian heritage group, for the main facial feature of his – the eyes – was unseen under the blood-stained bandage, and his hair was completely black apart from a single golden lock and combed backwards.

   “The Host feels we are going to add new acts to our scenario,” the man stated.

   “Perhaps,” Dark nodded. “Primary procedures first.”

   The Host? Nate recalled seeing the ‘Host’s Cabinet of Wonder’ sign on one of the pavilions on the outside. Maybe this was the owner. And it wouldn’t be surprising.

   “You are right. There were four experiments, two of them random, two of them lucky,” the Host went on in an even, almost soothing manner. “The Host sees that most of us revealed our true powers here, but this duo has hardly any image about what they’re capable of.”

   “Excuse me!” Natemare interfered. “They? THEY? I suppose you wanted to say ‘what HE is capable of’. I am the stronger part!”

   “But you have no idea how to apply this strength,” the Host went on without a flinch. “Call it strength, call it power… The second one is weaker, but he got the brains. And patience. Just like Felix has the sparkle and Infelix has the control. They manage to coexist, and so will you. The Host would like you to watch the oncoming show from behind the scenes.”

   “And what about…” Nate began.

   “It depends on you two, and on no one more.”


	2. Clouds Darkening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate and Natemare watch the show from behind the scenes and meet some new faces. And new problems too.

   “…Get lost.”

   “Gah! Just in time! You couldn’t drill over my ear later!”

   “It’s not my fault that I’ve finally found the right words!”

   “But I’m hungry!”

   “Bet there will be enough fear for you to feed on…”

   “The Host supposes that this is going to be a good first impression.”

   Nate and Natemare stared at each other and then at the Host, who had appeared behind them soundlessly like a specter. Honestly, how did he manage to do that? Probably blind, but able to sneak anywhere. After all, there was a flying man here at least, so… one could really expect the unexpected.

   “The Host wants Natemare to keep his hunger in for a while. And to leave Nate alone, at least for now. Anti also used to suffer from indigestion at the beginning.”

   “Heard that?” Nate grinned in triumph and went on scribbling in his notebook.

   “Shush! They’re beginning!” Natemare hissed.

   The lights were out, leaving only two searchlights, red and blue, surrounding Dark’s silhouette in the middle of the arena. Nate guessed it was in order to hide his weird aura.

   “Welcome to Dark’s Dreadful Delights, my honest ladies and gentlemen,” he began. “If there is someone faint of heart, they should probably leave, because this show is not for them. If you doubt that you’ll stay alive and won’t die of fright by the end of the show, you should leave as well. We take no responsibility for the deaths of fright and things related to them… Well? No one? Fine. This was the last warning.”

   Why did the best words arrive at the most inappropriate moments? Nate hummed the uncertain tune under his breath and scribbled some more phrases down. The first act belonged to Wilford Warfstache, who for now was basically flirting with the audience, asking for a volunteer. Finally it was possible to get a proper sight of him, especially of his most prominent feature: moustache similar to Jameson’s, but candy pink (oh gosh) and of slightly different shape.

   “All blank. I’ve checked.” Chase, the man who had been running the ring toss before the show, leaned against a huge box nearby, hands in pockets. “Yeah, Warfstache is able to put a lit candle out with a bullet, but it only happens when he has a period of sensibility. And those are unpredictable. Even the Host cannot foresee when another one comes and if it is going to come at all, and you’ve seen what he’s capable of.”

   Meanwhile Warfstache selected the volunteer and started the foreplay, aiming at the balloons tied on a huge board with a human shape drawn in the middle, where the volunteer was to stay.

   “Now… Now…” Chase hummed, squinting so that freckles adorning his face disappeared in the wrinkles that formed because of tension. “Gah, it’s always so nerve-racking!”

   “That guy’s so dead,” Natemare mused: the stream of nervousness emitted by the poor volunteer was threatening to change into a tsunami, and for a brief moment he felt nervous himself, having no idea if he would be able to convince it all at once. He was too used to feeding on feeble creeks of fear, and he had seen what happens after falling greedily on food (real food) as a result of staying hungry for ages. Not the best sight.

   “Needles,” Chase pointed out. “All set. I’ve checked them.”

   “Needles? You mean, those balloons are to be…” Nate started after the first ’POP’, but went on anyway: “…popped by needles? That’s logical, if your Warfstache is completely off his dot.”

   “Needles are set not only for that,” Chase replied. “You’ll see.”

   Natemare couldn’t make out the expressions of the viewers’ faces, but the constant stream of nervousness was speaking for itself. Even the continuous ‘pop, pop, pop’ of the balloons couldn’t distract him now. But the delight was too short, interrupted by a yell from somewhere above:

   “Lines!”

   Warfstache lowered his gun (painted golden) and put his hands on his hips, eying the crowd.

   “Who said that?” he asked, knitting his eyebrows together in concern. “Well?”

   “I said that!”

   The green searchlight pointed at a person standing on the balcony over the audience, right at the second level where the orchestra was located. Nate understood that it was Anti due to his glowing green eyes.

   “You may go, lad, I’ve got another one to shoot at,” Warfstache told the volunteer, and the lad practically ran away. “I suppose our band is to stay without a drummer. What didn’t you like?”

   “Something fake.” At this moment Warfstache aimed at Anti and shot, but the green-haired man dodged with a quick handspring, having pretended that he was about to fall from the balcony, and continued: “All of those balloons were popped with needles. I’ve seen it. And you’re… well, if it wasn’t for your pink moustache, you would’ve been kicked out of here in less than a moment.”

   “We’ll see who’s going to get kicked out!”

   Anti bounced from the balcony a moment before another Warfstache’s bullet could’ve reached him. It appeared that he was hanging on a see-through rope fixed on his belt. After spinning a circle over the arena, he leaned against one of the walls like an overgrown bug and thumbed his nose at Warfstache:

   “Try to catch me now!”

   The next two or three minutes were basically Warfstache’s attempts to get revenge on the mocker, rapidly shooting to all sides. The stream of nervousness was supported by tension now, and Natemare had to contain himself again not to convince it all at once. After all, it was just the beginning.

   “Well, that does it!” Warfstache roared after Anti managed to reflect some of the bullets with a huge knife he got out of his sleeve while spinning (now similarly to a spider). The ending of the act was worth it: the pink weirdo shot the knife out of Anti’s hand and, having possessed it, tossed it at the green mocker, having made him lifelessly hang on the rope upside down.

   Dead silence. That’s what followed. Poker-faced Warfstache let out another shot, having torn the rope with it, and Anti dropped onto the floor.

   “Told you he’s able to put a candle out with a bullet,” Chase reminded. Not losing time, Warfstache scooped Anti up fireman-style (on purpose in such a way that his now bloodshed throat was visible) and commented:

   “Hmm, I think this was too much. Anyway, I suppose it’s time for an overhaul.”

   This was the first time when Nate saw Warfstache walking. Not dashing, not running, just walking. After being gone from the audience’s sight, he dropped Anti into the closest chair and rubbed the sweat off his forehead:

   “Hey, Anti, you’re beginning to repeat yourself. The previous trick with the hangman was more impressive.”

   Anti giggled and blinked, touching his throat. Now it was seen that it had a beige patch on, which for now was ripped and red paint was oozing out of it.

   “Hm, this seems to be effective. The hangman was not the best option, Wilford.”

   “But the blue tongue was impressive,” Warfstache parried. “What did you use? Ink?”

   “You’ll never guess,” Anti giggled even louder, detaching the patch from his neck. “I ate some blackberries.”

   The action behind the scenes was on already: Chase darted off to help Shep and Jackie pull an enormous Tesla coil closer to the arena entrance. While they were busy doing it, the now complete mechas, all dressed in ordinary clothing (perhaps to look more like humans) – all five resembling Warfstache and the rest of his copies, but four wearing long-sleeved shirts of various colors (blue, red, yellow and green) and one in a sleeveless black tunic with orange accents – marched to begin their act.

   Jackie must’ve convinced everyone to use the roller skates. The plot of the mechas’ act was quite simple: the main Google, the one in the blue shirt, was ordering the rest three Googles to set up the Tesla coils around the stage, while Bing, the one in the black tunic, was not obeying him, but rather making a mess, flying around the arena on the roller skates and jumping from one coil to another.

   “Now that’s advanced,” Nate approved, watching Bing. “If I didn’t know they’re mechanical…”

   “Ask our bosses if you want to know more,” Jack commented, helping Anti apply makeup to his scar in order to make it look even worse. “Mark invented the first one, the blue guy. Well, not only he did. I’ve heard that his pal Matthias helped him as well.”

   Nate didn’t get to see the rest of the act because the theme of mechanical creatures gave him another push for making some more notes. Of course, no own thought, no ideas, no nothing… or are there any? The flow of inspiration was stopped again in the rudest way by a black blob that plopped into his face and glued his eyelids shut.

   Natemare howled with laughter, while Nate dropped the notebook and attempted to rub the sticky substance off his face, but to no avail: it got dried really quickly. Not glue. Ink. Ink with a specifically sharp smell.

   “Now, wait, don’ move.”

   This time something cool flowed down Nate’s forehead, and his eyes opened, although the dried crust remained. After blinking to regain his sight, Nate spotted a person that he hadn’t seen among the crew: it was a copy of Jack and Anti, whose clothing was so worn that almost all of it gained brownish shades. And in all he looked as if he was cut out of parchment splattered with ink dots.

   “Yikes,” Nate only managed to say.

   “Yikes indeed,” the man nodded and squeezed the glass dropper he was holding over Nate’s face once more so more drops fell onto the latter’s nose. “Stay still. Sorry fo’ da mess, I didn’ want to appear before ya ‘cause… well… was preparin’ fo’ the show.”

   “Ink charmer,” Jack commented from the farther end of the place. “You know, there are snake charmers, and Shawn is an ink charmer.”

   “Now dat is an idea,” the ‘parchment’ man, Shawn, replied. “I was thinkin’ what was missin’. Thanks, Jack. No worries, newbie, this will remove da remains in no time. It’s not poisonous.”

   “Famous last words,” Natemare put in, laughed at his own joke and received a splash of ink into his face as well.

   Finally all the coils were out, and right on time: the lights at the arena went out as well. The mechas soundlessly marched behind the scenes, the main Google holding Bing’s head with cables hanging from his neck, while three other Googles were pulling its body behind them. Curious, Nate waited until the head was placed onto the table (that main Google was as eerie as it could be) and saw that not a single cable was ripped: each one of them had a connection tip (or what they were called). So, this means that they were somehow joined to the corresponding places inside Bing’s torso, Nate concluded. Way to go, inventors!

   The central searchlight was turned on again, showing Anti on some kind of an operating table in the middle of the arena.

   “Gee, how does he manage not to grimace?” Nate hummed, imagining himself facing such light.

   “I think he’s simply dead,” Natemare snapped, scratching the dried ink off his face, revealing that his blue stripes showed up again.

   “How do you still bear that Wilford Warfstache?” Henrik’s voice sounded from the arena: now the searchlights made him and Edward visible as well.

   “Stop that, if it weren’t for him, we would’ve been left unemployed,” Edward replied with a lunatic smirk. “Now let’s get to work. It’s going to be a revolutionary action. Electricity! The true marvel of our world!”

   A marvel, indeed. The coils droned, being brought to life… Wait a second. If they could drone, that means they could drone differently. Like guitar strings. Lower, higher… Nate’s mind flow was interrupted again with the cracking sound. Weak thunder, he thought. Hmm, thunder. That could be a good idea. But where to get a guitar? And moreover, how on Earth was it possible to control the sounds of those coils without being zapped? Was Natemare affected by electricity?

   Questions appeared in Nate’s head faster than fireworks. Fireworks? Those were not fireworks. Those were sparkles. So many that they were shooting around, some of them seemingly reaching the viewers. Gosh, that was nerve-racking even from here! The epicenter, of course, was Anti, whose body was jerking and twitching at this moment, while Henrik and Edward were cackling in triumph. Being human is not fashionable here, Nate concluded.

   Finally Anti – hair smoldering, clothing half-burnt, scar bleeding – rapidly sat up and sneered like a madman, eying the awestruck audience. During around five seconds his expression stayed victorious, but then it slowly changed into revengeful one.

   “Where’s Warfstache?” he hissed, sticking his tongue out snake-like. “Reply! Now!”

   Warfstache did not delay his appearance, having peeked at the arena from the closest curtain. Anti jumped up, as if he was sitting on a string, and darted after him. Nate couldn’t make out what took place next except for the roar “I’M GONNA KILL YOU, REVIVE YOU AND KILL YOU AGAIN!!!”

   “Now for the distractions again,” Jack informed, appearing next to Nate and Natemare again. Jackie and Shep were ready for action, both dressed in skin-tight outfits (Jackie’s was red, while Shep’s, obviously, was light grey with silvery shimmer). “While out supermen are under the roof, we will remove those coils. After all, they are to be removed, hey? There will be no room for Jameson and Shawn at least if they’re not.”

   Again, it was not the comfiest spot to watch the trapeze act in which Jackie and Shep were involved, but Nate got the idea that it was if not dreary, then breath-taking at least, for Jackie managed to slow down in midflight before grabbing Shep’s hands or returning to swinging on the high wire.

   “Thrill,” Natemare purred, slightly stretching his arms to sides, as if exposed to long-awaited sunlight. “How refreshing. I was getting sick of your worries, brother wimp.”

   “I know that better than you,” Nate snarled. In fact, he did understand Natemare. Living on a single type of food must’ve been tedious, even if that food was emotions.

   “Enjoy it while you still can,” Jack informed. Now he was busy checking the bottles filled with ink of various colors. “Some following acts are to be calm.”

   “Why?!” Natemare whined, and at that very moment Nate spotted a flash of silver nearly hit the ground behind his back followed by a collective gasp. “Why did you have to say it at such moment?! I was enjoying the nicest meal in ages!”

   “No worries, blue boy, you’ll enjoy even more dishes tonight,” Jack carelessly replied. “This was set by Mark and Dark from the very beginning. I also think it’s the best tactics. That’s right, even fear and thrill may become tedious if kept constantly… You see, the audience is to be calmed down. We are to make them think that the nightmare’s over. Up yours, viewers!.. All solid, Shawn. No cracks.”

   “It wasn’ ya who saved da performance da previous time,” Shawn grumbled. “Try to beat a 5/7 rhythm. Five claps with yer right hand an’ seven with yer left, simultaneously. Then ya’ll know what it’s like to me.”

   Another collective gasp followed, so Nate peeked out again and spotted that Jackie and Shep were hanging upside down, their legs tied with a strange silver rope and heads in half a meter from the floor. One moment later they took the correct positions, holding on the rope, and made up the most gleeful faces.

   “Jackie’s obsessed with spiders,” Jack informed. “It was his idea. A rope based on spiders’ web, light and strong, hidden in his sleeves. Has potential, if you ask me.”

   The lights were dimmed again. Now it was Jameson’s and Shawn’s turn, and this time the equipment was complicated: most of all construction now unfolded between the floor and the ceiling, in the middle of space, resembled a cake divided into eight sectors, made of translucent white cloth and holding on wood and wire base. Jameson was balancing on the hidden bases inside this construction, while Shawn, hardly seen because the lights were set in such a way that only the blurred shadows of the items inside the construction could be made out and he was on the floor, was manipulating the ink blobs soaring inside the sectors and forming various shapes.

   “Now that’s gonna be a success,” Jack mused, watching the sight. “At first Jameson was our mime, then juggler, then sword-swallower. Believe it or not, but he wasn’t the most popular of us. And now, combined with Shawn… well, it was Shawn’s idea.”

   The music accompanying the act was corresponding: slow, calm, but a bit tense and nervous. Lost in a-maze-ment, that’s what it was. By the way, about music: while Shawn was occupied with his ink business, Googles and Bing soundlessly brought the grand piano to the arena. How did they manage to do it? Metal beings carrying heavy items, but able to sneak like wild cats.

   The reason was that the next act belonged to the Jim twins, who were already there.

   “And who said that there’s no circus without animals?” they asked, having spotted that Nate saw them. “To be honest, we suppose that Mark and Dark allow Kingie to stay just to satisfy those who think that circus is all about torturing animals. The correct circus is about torturing humans.”

   “Golly glorious! Gotta go!” Jack yelped all of a sudden and darted away. The Jims only rolled their eyes at this and switched to Nate:

   “So? Do you have any ideas about your acts? Jackson is a man of multiple talents, as Jack must’ve told you, but this is the first time he uses them properly. We suppose that Dark and Mark are going to be delighted. At long last.”

   “Well… actually, I do,” Nate confessed. “But I’m unable to do it all alone. Even two of us won’t be enough.”

   “How do you know?” Natemare put in.

   “Let’s be realistic. I don’t even have an instrument. And I do not have enough skills with electricity.”

   “Instrument?” the Jims echoed. “What kind of instrument? Are you a musician too?”

   “Used to play the guitar for a living.” Nate shrugged.

   The Jims rubbed their chins:

   “We think we know who can help you with that. And if you have a demonic twin, it should fit you just fine. Ask the Host.”

   “Wait, what do you mean by ‘fitting just fine’?”

   But he never got any reply because Jameson’s and Shawn’s act was over (and generously rewarded with applause – relaxed applause, most probably), and now the Jims were about to get all eyes on them.

   “They have sent you a letter

To come back home to play,

But to your dismay,

This isn’t your day,

For the happy fun time has begun to fade!”

   The rhythm of the song was quite quick, and Nate supposed that one of the twins was keeping the rhythm, while the other was responsible for the tune. They sung very well: their identical voices almost fused into one. But perhaps only Nate, as a person with a sense of pitch, could catch that one of them was a bit late.

   By the time when the Jims reached the first chorus, Shawn was still sitting on the floor and staring into nowhere.

   “Ya can’ imagine how tiresome dat is,” he complained. Jameson pulled him up to help him stand. “I feel like ma brains are meltin’.”

   “DO YOU THINK IT WAS EASIER FOR ME?” Jameson asked in return. “THANK GOODNESS YOU DID NOT SPOIL MY OUTFIT THIS TIME.”

   “…There’s no vaccine

To cure our dirty needs,

For now you must

Build up our machine,

You die tonight!”

   The fused voice divided in two again: while one twin was repeating the final phrase, the other one was chanting. “Ta-ra-ta-ta, ta-ra-ta-ra, ta-ta…”

   “Dat Will,” Shawn sighed. “Gets inspired by EVERYTHIN’.”

   “Who’s Will?”

   “Our songwriter,” Shawn explained. “Prefers not ta show himself, but he’s a genius. When he learned that I used to work at a toy factory… well… and after a portion of cartoons he wrote dat song,” he pointed at the twins with his thumb. “Tellin’ ya, he can get inspired by anythin’. Bet ya and him are birds o’ a feather.”

   “Stop boasting with your ink magic, Shawn! I’m the real magic man here!” Marvin rushed into the place. Now he was dressed in a frilly blue shirt, floppy black bowtie and velvet indigo cape. “Do I look convincing enough?”

   “Fabulous,” a lazy voice droned from the other end of the room. Felix, Inf and Robbie, all three dressed in skin-tight outfits (azure, navy blue and silvery grey correspondingly) arrived as well, for their act was approaching (Nate guessed that they were to enter all together). “But pants are a bit too long.”

   “Well, I didn’t have time to get them tailored,” Marvin replied, thumbing through the deck of cards. “Where’s Chase? He’s responsible for the background effects…”

   “I’m here!” Chase replied, running into the room and panting. “My drum shift’s over.”

   “Remember the sequence?” Marvin pointed out.

   “Of course,” Chase assured.

   Marvin’s magic act was not scary of dreadful, but it delivered the sense of uneasiness and suspense as well. The first core moment was that Marvin showed that his card decks were absolutely ordinary and then the cards of unknown, ‘hidden’, suits appeared among them all of a sudden: bees, scissors, pipes, chains, lamps, ivy – all colors and patterns.

   “Are you watching closely?” Marvin asked after revealing the card he called ‘the detective of ivy’. “Right now I’d like to ask one of you to think of a card… Yes, you, the one in a hat with pink ribbon. Imagine it. Visualize it. Make it appear in your mind… Done? Excellent. Now…”

   The floor of the arena lit up, revealing a pattern of a playing card – the eight of diamonds.

   “She’s your companion,” one of the viewers interfered. “Do it with me.”

   “Fine,” Marvin agreed. “Visualize your card… Already done? Great!”

   This time the floor showed up the two of spades.

   “Two of spades? The littlest one? Hah, that’s too boring. What about… THIS?” Suddenly Marvin did a wide twirl, his cape flying up, making him similar to an overgrown bat, and hundreds of cards darted out of his wide sleeves, each one finding a way to a separate viewer. The patterns of these cards depicted the receivers, that’s what the core of this trick was. At the first sight.

   Having waited until the surprised gasps were over, Marvin continued in a casual tone:

   “Now let’s see…” He raised his hand, and one of the cards darted back to him, like a paperclip to a magnet. “Saoirse Macintosh. Wow, that’s a nice touch. Escaped here from the parents, who didn’t want you to come… Oops. I’m getting into a different act. Ex-cuse me!”

   “What is he on about?” Nate sneakily asked Felix.

   “You’ll see,” the tow-topped man winked. “And they thought I was a busybody.”

   “You are,” Inf put in. “Only I can call you so, and I will.”

   “Stop… chatting… we have to… come out… soon.”

   This was stated by Robbie, and right on time: Marvin has already fulfilled the arena with blue and pink smoke and now was doing a victory dance behind the scenes.

   “You were right, Shawn. Those smoke bombs are outstanding!”

   Shawn gave him a lop-sided smirk. Meanwhile Felix and Inf armed themselves with long wooden poles – each one about six meters high – and approached to the stage, followed by Robbie. Their act was risky at least for one of them: Felix and Inf attached the poles to their wide belts, stood face to face, and Robbie started climbing to the tops of the poles.

   “Have you checked all of his stitches? I doubt that ripping apart would be respectable,” Chase asked Shawn.

   “Definitely,” Shawn nodded. “I’m a pro when it comes to stitches, don’ forget. Used to sew toys fourteen hours a day.”

   “Anyway, how do you… em…” Nate hesitated, not knowing if it was polite to ask about such things. But Shawn understood him perfectly:

   “Ya can learn a lot about yerself when ya be bored. I was so bored dat I tried to use my mind… and it worked, ya see. But it’s all about the experiment too. Side-effects and all. Da same with Marvin. He had those card-manipulating abilities since he was a kid, so he developed dem.”

   Loud applause came from the side of the arena: Robbie had already reached the ends of the poles and was balancing on their tips now. Nate even felt dizzy at this sight.

   “Gee whiz,” Chase muttered, tugging at his collar. “I would’ve thrown up if I was made… yow!” The latest was caused by the sight of Robbie standing on his hands, holding at the pole tops, while Felix and Inf were balancing underneath. “Perhaps he’s just used to it.”

   Robbie arched backwards and hung on the poles (which now were brought together and almost touching) upside down, holding on them with his knees. Now the air got so tense that it even was surprising that there was not a crack of electricity. Silence. Perfect silence, apart from Chase’s anxious gasps (maybe he was afraid of heights; this made Nate wonder if all the copies shared similar fears in addition to appearances) and Robbie’s hardly heard inhales. Having reached the middle of the poles, Robbie grabbed on them again, Felix and Inf simultaneously stepped backwards, and he found himself half-hanging on the poles.

   “Jackie offered adding a rope as well.” Chase rubbed his sweaty forehead clean. “Robster can’t dance, but his tricks may be varied.”

   The itch in the back of Nate’s mind renewed itself. Varied. Varied. Very varied… The whole matter was about variations. And trust. Robbie trusts Felix and Inf, they won’t drop him on purpose. And what if vice versa? This is called betrayal. But what comes before betrayal?

   Nate returned to reality when he found out that Robbie was firmly standing on his feet next to him, while his arms were missing. This time both of them.

   “Not gonna argue about who made an extra step,” Inf grumbled. “We’re lucky that you stayed solid during the whole act, Rob. Shawn, would you mind?”

   “Naturally. Come on, zomboy, let’s get ya patched up.”

   The next act belonged to Kingie. It was almost the same with counting horses and dogs: at first Kingie asked them mathematical questions, and the squirrels replied by choosing the correct number card, but then the questions gradually changed.

   “Who of these honoured ladies and gentlemen has a hidden stash of dirty pictures?”

   This was about the most innocent question out of those to which the animals replied by jumping onto the heads of the corresponding persons, making them either blush with shame or reply with swearing. Someone even tried to leave after being selected, but the squirrels managed to return them to their places by collectively pulling them by their feet.

   “Preparation for the Host’s act,” Chase explained.

   It was, for when Kingie finally left the arena (carried away on a living rug made out of his charges), the attention was drawn to the Host, sitting in a huge armchair in the middle of the arena, fingers laced under his chin and legs crossed. It was an almost relaxed pose, but his blood-stained bandage added pressure to the image.

   The Host’s act was a mentalist one. Answering the questions which the viewers asked. As Nate expected, they gradually changed from harmless to darker and darker ones. Soon the Host was no longer answering, but just telling in the same calm intonation that he did before, but this made it all sound even eerier.

   “You married your husband just because you know about his little secret. And you know very well that he will never get away from you, just because he’s unable to. Moreover, you advise every single girl that you meet that a secret of successful marriage is finding a person with a similar secret.”

   Nate recalled what the Jims had told him. ‘Ask the Host if you need the instrument’. Wait a second. ‘Host’s Cabinet of Wonder’. Such cabinets of wonder were like flea markets: lots of sham, but sometimes true treasures could be found.

   “You secret of successful marriage is marrying a disabled girl, then getting her inheritance, killing her and marrying your sidekick. ‘She is going to die in a year, I will get her fortune, and then we will live happily ever after, my love’. Aren’t those your words? The parents of the murdered girl are here. No more happily ever after for you.”

   Nate swallowed a lump in his throat. Unlike him, Natemare was delighted: he always stated that no one should be trusted, and the Host’s act supported his beliefs. Great. Having made sure that no one was watching, Nate sneaked out of the place and then outdoors. Thank goodness it had stopped raining, although there was no ground, just mud and water.

   Where’s the pavilion?.. Aha, there it was. Nate – skin and bones – quickly got in through the window, shook the mud-stained shoes off his feet not to trek it in the place and began turning his head to all sides. His eyes quickly got used to the dark, and in addition faint lighting was created by a cylindrical container full of eye-cutting green liquid, inside which – oh please – a green eyeball with a tail was swimming around. Gotta hope that no one was watching through it…

   Nate gasped after revealing that the Jims had told him the truth. One of the items shown here indeed was an old guitar. Black paint covering its surface was in cracks, and it was unknown how many hands had touched it, but generally it seemed undamaged. Nate carefully took the instrument off its stand and plucked the strings. A bit unbalanced and tinkly, but this could be fixed easily.

   “No, that’s way too quiet,” Nate mused to himself after playing some accords. “Really, wish someone could help me make it louder. Those Tesla coils would’ve been perfect. Noise. I need noise… Drums? Perhaps Jack and Anti could help. Da-da-da-daa, da-da-da-daa… yes, that fits… it does…”

   “What are you doing here?”

   The sensation was as if Nate woke up from some kind of a trance. He got so involved in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the key turning, and now he was caught red-handed in front of practically all crew.

   “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” Dark repeated, holding a huge candlestick with nine lit-up candles so that it made him look even creepier. “You couldn’t wait for the end of the show?”

   Nate began mumbling something as a reply, but was stopped by the Host:

   “Eager creator, lacking patience. The Jims told him about this instrument, and he could not wait to use it… The Host supposes he could make a decent entrance act.”

   “He?” Natemare put in.

   “They,” the Host cut off. “The boy has an idea of bringing all of us together in one act. Hinting what will be next. Foreshadowing.”

   Indeed. That was Nate’s secret intention which he didn’t admit even to himself, so insane it seemed.

   “This does not cancel the fact that he intruded here,” Dark insisted. “He just rushes in, almost steals one of our exhibits and then has the brass to state that he has a decent addition to our performance! How’s that called?”

   “He did not state that. He thought so,” the Host objected. “The Host believes that this is indeed a decent scenario, but it is incomplete.”

   “Yeah, Dark, the Host’s right. Nate did not state anything,” Jack approved.

   “Besides, there already was such a case, and it ended up just fine, even though you were suspicious,” Mark added. Only now Nate saw a group of unfamiliar persons behind the backs of those who were inquiring him. Perhaps those were the orchestra members. Nate was hardly surprised when he realized that all of them shared the same face despite the almost minor differences like glasses or scruffy fringe.

   Having lost the arguments, Dark glared daggers first at Nate, then at Chase, and finally concluded with a sigh:

   “All right. Say thanks to my soft-hearted twin, Nathan Sharp. I’ll give you a chance to prove yourself, but if something similar to Sanders Explosion happens, beware!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Shawn Flynn is the character of Bendy and the Ink Machine videogame, voiced by JackSepticEye and and unofficial ego, if someone doesn't know.  
> 2) Another reference to Bendy and the Ink Machine is the song performed by the Jim Twins - it's Build Our Machine by DAGames (who's also the mentioned Will Ryan the composer).  
> 3) I'll give you a chance to find the rest of the references by yourself. I love references.


	3. The Sound of Thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate tries the first version of his act out.

   As far as Nate and Natemare had no chance to go home because the roads were flooded (there had been a monstrous storm during the performance), they were allowed to spend the night at the trailer of those very mentioned Sanderses. They appeared to be the results of a different experiment than the one which had created the rest of the copied: it was some kind of odd inheritance, the result of which was the birth of identical boys at the same day and time, but from different parents. In all, there were eight Sanderses, who, unlike the rest, tended to stay together: the conductor Thomas, the violinists Virgil and Roman, the trumpeter Patton, the saxophonist Logan, the flutist Remy, the cello player Nation (Nate nicknamed him this way to himself not to get completely confused) and the pianist Deceit. Jack was the only band member who did not belong to them.

   “What kind of number is eight? Where eight fit, ten are able as well.” Thomas, the leading Sanders, decided that this was the main reason why Nate and Natemare were allowed to stay in their trailer. But Nate suspected something different, and not only he.

   “You sure? I bet Dark has already set half of the crew against us and them.” This was stated by Virgil. “Don’t forget what happened the previous time.”

   “But we’re still here,” Patton objected. “If we weren’t doing our job well, we would’ve been kicked out of here in no time. All of us. Dark appreciates that holding together is important for us.”

   “So? What was that grand idea that the bandaged spoke about?” Natemare asked unceremoniously. “Do you even have a plan?”

   Nate sat cross-legged in the middle of the trailer in order to see everyone’s reactions:

   “Fine acoustics, flashing searchlights, composition seen from all sides and noise effects. That is what’s needed first of all.”

 ---

   “You’re quite insane with your idea. I like it.” Chase tossed another pancake onto the plate (for some reason he did not put them down with a spatula, but either flipped them in the air or tossed just like the rings at the attraction he ran). “Hey, stop staring at me! There were times when I was so bored that I entertained myself with tossing hats onto hooks!”

   “And apparently without the best results,” Anti teased, walking into the kitchen area.

   “Oh gosh! What’s that smell? Dee-licious!” Jack tried to prevent the possible bickering, following his green-eyed copy. “Morning, Nate. Where’s your blue-striped… jeez, where did those shadows come from?”

   Nate rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and did not reply, not knowing how to formulate. But Virgil, who was busy setting the table (made of multiple folding tables), replied for him:

   “He was explaining his plan almost all night. When we all went to sleep, he was still adding details. And Mr. Nightmare Bringer is still asleep with my bros. He doesn’t care.”

   “And?” Anti asked, caught a pancake in midflight and stuffed it into his mouth. And immediately got a bash on his forehead with the ladle.

   “Generally, I like it,” Virgil commented. “Honestly, I don’t think that any of acts performed here is easier. Especially those of Henrik and Edward.”

   “I even got the text almost done,” Nate feebly put in, opening his notebook. “Wanna see?”

   Jack briskly read the text and pursed his lips:

   “Hmm, looks promising… But the text is merely a skeleton.”

   “Yeah. This is why… well…” Nate felt ashamed when having another glance at the scheme he had drawn during the night: so scratched and scribbled it was. “It needs to be implemented. Perhaps it’s all just a big failure.”

   “Listen up, you’re hungry and sleepy. They say you need to have a good sleep before taking a decision, and full stomach means better mood,” Chase interfered. “Call for everyone, Anti, okay?”

   Anti didn’t have to, because the pleasant smell seemed to have attracted the inhabitants of this place. Felix and Inf were the first to come, then Marvin, Shawn, Jameson and Robbie, the Jim twins, Wilford Warfstache (it seemed that he was in hot water with Anti in real life, for he occupied the place as far away from him as possible), Henrik and Edward, Jackie and Shep, the remaining Sanderses, Natemare (at last!), Kingie (alone this time) and finally Mark and Dark, leading the Host.

   “This is why we still keep Chase – he’s surprisingly not a bad cook,” Shawn whispered to Nate: he happened to be his neighbor at the table. “We cook in turn, just to make it fair.”

   Judging by the appetite with which almost everyone present ate, the first statement was true. But food was sticking in Nate’s throat – it was similar to chewing carpet. To distract himself he switched his look from one face to another: for instance, the Jim twins were eating one after the other (one had cherry jam on his plate and the other had honey) and Robbie was doing his best not to splotch his mates with food.

   After breakfast Nate hurriedly set foot back to the Sanders’ trailer to begin the practical part of his plan. He had already tuned the guitar and was satisfied with its sound, so it was time to try it out.

   “Up all night to see if you can make it, all new friends to see if you can take it… No-no-no-no. That should be in the middle, I need an introduction. Perhaps an announcement.” Nate nibbled on his thumb, recalling. “Jack is their announcer. Heh, Jack of all trades! But you gotta be able to do everything in a place like this… Gather round, gather round… Maybe I should ask him to add this. At the beginning. Come on, come on and behold, we have a sight…”

   “Nate?” Robbie’s purple head popped from behind the half-closed door, his mouth surrounded with pink mass. “Were… you… calling?”

   “Ah, Robbie, no. I was, ahem, rehearsing the rough version of my act,” Nate explained.

   “May I?”

   “Yeah, come in.”

   Robbie tumbled in, rubbing his face clean in process.

   “Is it… a song?”

   “Yes.”

   “Like… Will’s?”

   “Who’s… Ah, you mean your composer?” Nate recalled Shawn’s comment about ‘the guy who gets inspired by everything’. Robbie nodded.

   “Mm-hmm. But… he… does not… stay here. He needs… space. What is… your song… about?”

   “Basically, about a creature from the dark who claims to be your friend, but in reality is not. It is all pretty and harmless on the outside, but malevolent on the inside.”

   “Just… like… here.”

   “Or just like you, but vice versa,” Nate murmured to himself: Robbie still made him shiver, particularly with his stitches (all fixed and holding him together for now), but there was no doubt that this walking jigsaw puzzle was a benign soul. “But I don’t think just me playing the guitar will make an impression. What’s needed is… energy. Sounds. Noise. I’ve heard those Tesla coils drone, so somehow it should be possible to make them emit various kinds of droning. The question is how…”

   “Were you talking about Tesla coils?” The next one to peek in was Jackie, his blue mask sitting on the top of his head. “Hmm, I think I’ve heard Henrik and Edward talk about concentrating on installing new functions on Googles and Bing. The coils are gonna be free, so you can use them.”

   “Thanks Jackie, but how on Earth can I set them at the required places of the arena and try them out?” Nate said that before understanding the sense of the question. But Jackie beamed:

   “No worries, I’m gonna help you with that. I’ll ask Shep to join too. He complained that he wanted something new.”

   “Me… too,” Robbie put in.

   Nate felt his face blush:

   “Thanks guys, you didn’t really need to…”

   “Stop flirting with them and pay attention to me.” This was Natemare, his blue stripes completely visible. “Why didn’t you talk to me? I’m not going to be left out. Or you thought you could get away just like that? No way, brother.”

   Nate’s lungs inflated like overblown balloons, pressing on his ribcage from the inside: Natemare practically confessed that he also wanted to take part in Nate’s act, whatever it was going to be.

   However, the practical part appeared to be complicated from the very beginning. Of course, Jackie involved Henrik and Edward, and after a series of experiments they managed to figure out how to make the coils emit droning of various pitches, using the guitar. Invincible Shep tested it and approved that it was harmless to use it (Nate had no idea how he differentiated dangerous and not-too-dangerous things if he was invincible; perhaps he had some kind a feeling), but still Nate had to battle shivering when he accepted the instrument. Even Henrik’s statement that the materials out of which the guitar was made did not carry electric current and therefore excluded the possibility of being struck with electricity while playing did not calm him down right away.

   “Gaaaaaah…” he only managed to say after the first accord deafened everyone present. “Now for the acoustics.”

   The next stage switched from mental action to physical: Nate, Natemare, Jackie, Shep and Robbie (Henrik and Edward returned to their own experiments with the mechas) had to work up a sweat before they managed to bring the coils to the highest level of the arena, behind the highest audience rows.

   “Perfect hexagon,” Jackie commented after examining the composition from above. “Try now.”

   This time the echo bounced between the walls, but did not strike the ears as much. Delighted, Nate played the first stanza, tripped over one of the cables and almost fell on his back.

   “Gee, I think we need to hide them,” Jackie informed. “Both the coils and the wires. Any ideas?”

   “Stands,” Robbie put in. “One… big… stand… in the… middle and… small… ones… around. Lights.”

   “Will do,” Shep approved.

   “I think we could use mirrors to hide the coils,” Natemare put in, influenced by the atmosphere of shared understanding. “They not only reflect light, but sound too, and make it deeper. We could put them at such angles that the coils could become practically invisible… the problem is, are there so many large mirrors?”

   “No problem,” Robbie informed. “Marvin… has… lots. He used to… use them… for his show… but now… does not.”

   “Did Jack tell you that our Robbie has a heart of gold?” Jackie beamed, watching his purple-headed copy hurriedly hobble to the behind-the-scene area. This scene made Nate recall cranes: it had always fascinated him that these birds, so clumsy and awkward on the ground, changed into the most graceful beings existing in the sky. Perhaps the same was with Robbie: he was in his element when balancing and bending on the tips of those poles.

   Robbie returned not only with Marvin, but with Jameson as well. After taking a look at the unfinished construction, Marvin immediately pointed out the requirement of making solid bases for the mirrors, for ‘it would be too much even for us if they smashed to pieces during the act’.

   “No worries,” Marvin sneakily ensured. Nate did his best to keep his facial expression neutral, but tension still was visible. “You have no idea what took place when we obtained those coils. Dark was amuck. He’s horribly conservative and does not really adore new ideas… He calmed down only after Henrik and Edward made the audience’s hearts skip four beats in a row, so it’s almost daily. But Mark… em… he’s for changes.”

   Nate lost the track of time while participating in setting the mirrors and constructing the stands at the arena. The latter was much easier, almost like resting after the construction of rotating bases for the mirrors; Marvin explained that setting them at a fixed angle would be useless and it could require adjusting. By the time when Nate finally had a chance to try the rough version of his act out he was so tired that he could not feel his arms and legs, no talking about fingers.

   Still he grabbed the guitar and touched the strings. It worked. The sudden flow of energy suppressed its loss, but it was too short: it was over when Nate was about the reach the line ‘There’s something bad inside me’. However, Nate harnesses his willpower and finished the song, having mentally reassured himself that the tiredness in his voice made the choruses sound even more desperate than he initially planned. Note: not to go overboard.

   “Awesome.” This was said by Jack, who appeared to be watching the ‘rehearsal’. “Now that’s going to blow everyone’s minds.”

   Nate gave him a lop-sided grin, for he could hardly speak after such musical exercise, and in addition his ears hurt from such noise effects.

   “Jack, Nate… wants… you to… take… part,” Robbie suddenly put in. Natemare hissed at him, but Jack paid no heed:

   “What? Me?”

   “Yessssss,” Nate wheezed and coughed, attempting to get his voice back to normal. “I mean… you could attract interest from the very beginning. Gather round, gather round. You’re a good announcer.”

   “But not a good singer,” Jack objected.

   “I mean, you could take part in the introduction. And add drums too, for guitar noise only is no good. I see it like this: pitch dark, then the searchlight surrounds me from the top. I say my words, then the searchlight goes out, and another one is turned on over you. When it’s my turn to speak, mine is on again, and so on. And… I also wanted to make the foreshadowing.”

   “What do you mean by that?” Marvin asked.

   “Emm… probably like this: you all will be standing on those stands around,” Nate gestured at the circle of smaller stands surrounding his largest middle one and hiding all the wires. “You’ll be invisible from the very beginning, but when tension increases, during the chorus mainly, the flashlights could make you visible for some seconds, one by one.”

   “Then the electricity supply system is to be checked in addition,” Shep pointed out.

   “SOUNDS INTRIGUING,” Jameson added. “I THINK, IF SO, ACTIONS COULD BE ADDED.”

   “Actions?” Nate coughed.

   “WHEN WE ARE VISIBLE, WE COULD SHOW WHAT WE DO.” Jameson illustrated his thought with his trademark finger waggle. “AND MARVIN COULD MAKE HIS CARD CHAIN TRICK.”

   “I see that you have already planned your act.” This was said by Dark who decided to judge the action. “Thank you very much that you haven’t made this place collapse yet.”

   “Stop being a bossy-boots, Dark.” Mark entered the arena after his partner. “All of our acts are risky enough to destroy the whole town from the inside or from the outside. You never know who’s afraid and who pretends. Well? Are there any side-effects?”

   “All solid rock,” Jackie assured, having checked all the mirrors. “Marvin knows how to act with those.”

   “You seem to have forgotten about me.” Of course, Natemare couldn’t choose a better moment to become indignant. “What about me?”

   “Give me a chance to finish,” Nate wheezed. “I just hope you’re quick enough. You could pretend to throttle me or something during the flash sessions… if that’s even possible.”


	4. Stormy Ascent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nate finally gets to perform his act.

   Nate felt as if he was decapitated, but vice versa: he couldn’t feel his body lower than the neck while his brain was burning. Why did he have to come here after all? What if his act was going to put Dark’s Dreadful Delights under fire? And why, why, WHY did he have to plan it so that it could become the opening act? Because Dark did approve that it was to be the introduction right after his trigger warning.

   Natemare’s blue stripes were not fading away. It must’ve meant that he was nervous too, he just couldn’t separate nervousness and being angry. However, the rest of the present were eating their pre-spectacle meal so calmly that Nate recalled the saying about the calm before the storm.

   “You should eat something, otherwise you’ll faint in the middle of your act,” Chase whispered to Nate.

   “Not hungry,” Nate muttered.

   “One toast is not enough for a day,” Chase insisted. “Come on, you need strength, and it is given by food.”

   “Thanks, Chase.” Nate made up a fake smile and gnawed on a piece of undercooked chicken (today the kitchen was Anti’s territory, and all day he had been complaining that he hated cooking).

   “Where’s your head, Nate?” the Jims asked, leaning on their elbows (all four at once). When Nate blinked at them, they sighed and went on: “Two heads are better than one, but we don’t think it would’ve been better if your brother dear shared a body with you. You are whole, after all.”

   “Hey, that’s an idea,” Marvin interfered. “I think two heads are just fine if they’re united by similar ideas.”

   “If you have two heads, you always have someone to kiss with,” Jackie put in. The Jims glared double daggers at him, and Nate thought that if Anti was them, he would’ve began a food fight. Or not. Dark – at least Dark – was very strict when it came to table manners, although he could forgive cases when the mess was made not on purpose. Robbie’s case, for instance. Right now Jameson was patiently inspecting his actions with fork and knife (yeah, having fingers stitched to hands could not be easy). Gentleman. Real and true gentleman.

   It was worse than Christmas Eve: Nate didn’t know where to get himself. The only thing that reassured him was that he heard the Sanderses rehearse the intro to his act. It was Natemare’s idea: he stated that the degree of suspicion and thrill would shoot up if there’s a contrasting introduction. Bells, violin and electric zaps. Henrik and Edward had also thought of a way to make the coils emit zapping sounds, so the combination was of calming and fearing kind at the same time.

   He was sitting in prostration until Natemare entered.

   “Come. Time to rock their brains.”

   Nate followed him, flexing his fingers around the guitar’s fingerboard along the way. Don’t be so dramatic, he reminded himself. The unfamiliar outfit – too tight pants making his legs seem even skinnier than they really were, heavy laced boots and a jacket with high collar – itched for no reason. Effects. Effects. At least no makeup, it would’ve been much worse…

   Nate hardly remembered listening to Dark’s warning before the show. All he could feel was the slightly hitched breathing of Natemare standing back-to-back with him and that his hand holding the fingerboard became moist with sweat. It didn’t bother him that right now he was almost absolutely invisible (as well as the rest of the crew standing around him) because the red and blue searchlights were surrounding Dark’s silhouette.

   With a click the searchlights were off, and the orchestra started the intro. Virgil’s violin. Anti’s bells. Ding-ding-ding-dong, ding-ding-ding-dong. One. Two. Three. Four…

   NOW!

   “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!” Nate roared, hitting the strings and seeing almost nothing: he was blinded by the searchlight which suddenly turned on over him.

   “Gather round, gather round!” Jack joined in. The searchlight over Nate was turned off, and this time the green one made him visible.

   “Sit back, relax and please stay in your seats,” Natemare put in, making his best evil grin, his blue stripes visible from the distance.

   “Kick your feet up and grab some popcorn,” Nate added, almost physically sensing anxiousness oozing out of every cell of his body.

   “Oh-ho-ho, and of course, lest we not forget…” Jack put in.

   “Enjoy the show!” all three yelped.

   During the moment after the introduction a wild thought occurred to Nate. Maybe Natemare could not even feed on fear, but make others forget about it by draining it out of them?.. Yes, Natemare was a pain in the neck most of the time, but he was NATEmare. He had to have something in common with his twin.

   Nate’s fingers, although moist, began moving along the fingerboard and over the strings. He could hardly hear the electric noises above, although they must’ve been striking the viewers to the marrow. Or maybe he lost his hearing? Because he could feel his lips, tongue and throat moving, but caught very few sounds.

   “Up all night  
To see if you can make it,  
All new friends  
To see if you can take it,  
Be still, be quiet,  
They still know you haven't left yet…”

   The searchlights began flashing again, making everyone present visible – one by one, one for each line.

   “And we’ll pretend…”

   Warfstache.

   “We'll just pretend…”

   Jameson.

   “Pretend that day would never end…”

   The Host, Robbie, Shep.

   “I'll make believe…”

   Shawn.

   “That you can see…”

   The Jims.

   “Everything they did to me…”

   Marvin. The Googles. Henrik.

   “Nowhere to hide…”

   Edward.

   “And now we're through…”

   Jackie.

   “But if we were just like you…”

   Bing. Chase. Kingie.

   “I'll be your friend…”

   Felix and Inf.

   “I'll be your friend…”

   Natemare.

   “You can trust me till the end…”

   Nate.

   Just another performance. Once again Nate felt a twitch of worry inside him, but it helped him make the words “Save me!” sound even more desperate. The second stanza went on quicker, or so it seemed to Nate because he knew what he was doing now, so he almost missed the moment of slowing down, when the searchlights made everyone visible at the same time. Now the crew members were standing with their arms lifted up, as if calling out for some divine creature, and their faces expressed nothing when they sang their part of the song.

   “We need you  
So we can escape,  
If they find you,  
It’ll be too late.  
We need you  
So we can escape,  
If they find you,  
It’ll be too late…”

   Two more zaps of Tesla coils. The searchlights switched to Nate and Natemare who caught up with the tune. Chorus time again, first time the regular one, then the changed version.

   “Now we're afraid,  
We're all afraid,  
Afraid that it might be too late,  
They never learn  
To wait their turn,  
Now we get to watch them burn,

Nowhere to hide  
And now we're through  
But if we were just like you,  
I'll be your friend,  
I'll be your friend,  
You can trust me till the end…”

   More zapping sounds.

   Pitch darkness.

   Nate could feel his soul soaring somewhere between the floor and the ceiling.

   He was dead.

   So dead that his body turned into jelly for maybe a second, maybe more. He only managed to sit up and see that he was behind the scenes when, judging by the arguing voices at the arena, it was Anti’s and Warfstache’s act.

   “Ah, you finally woke up. Too much energy spent both for preparation and the act itself.” The Host, who was sitting in an armchair in the opposite end of the place, took one of the classic thinker’s positions with legs crossed and fingertips put together under his chin. His mouth corners were a bit raised in a hardly seen grin; Nate forced himself to stare at the talker’s shoes not to see this eyeless expression. “But the amount of energy produced by the audience as a result is almost equal to the amount you spent, so you two proved yourself to be worthy.”

   “What do you mean by that?” Natemare asked.

   “The Host means that you may stay with us. For now. Mark is completely for it, but Dark has doubts. Make those doubts vanish.”

   “But all those preparations… coils… and-and I made everyone fussy even though I was to do it all by myself,” Nate stuttered.

   “What makes you think so?”

   “Be-because it’s my act. My and Natemare’s.”

   The Host’s grin became slightly wider:

   “Circus stick together. And face-sharers too. Requiring that you would be fit before beginning training is absurd, eh? You train to become fit. So, you may become such too if you’re ready to work.”

   “Work-work-work till the brain begins to swim, work-work-work till the eyes are heavy and dim,” Natemare sang, sneering at Nate. “I loved it. Your roaring guitar scared everything out of them.”

   “And you absorbed it all,” Nate parried, having made Natemare turn green with rage.

   “The Host sees that you already have an idea for another song,” the Host went on. “But the words are too blurry. Would you mind?”

   Nate turned his gaze to his hands. The fingertips were bleeding, and the blood seemed blackish in this lighting. Yes. He balled his hands up and uncurled his fingers again, his palms now marked with blood as well.

   “Just like Shawn’s ink,” he murmured. “I have no idea what it is going to be about, but I certainly know what its title will be.”

   “What?” Natemare snapped.

   Nate reflected his twin’s evil smirk:

   “Blood and Ink.”


End file.
